The classic Thanksgiving feast recipe, complete with traditional recriminations:

8 guests, finely shredded by holiday traffic

60 years of family squabbles, still stewing

1 gallon of guilt

2 quarts of mild frustration

6 cups of procrastination

4 cups of free-range stalling

2 pints of low-fat dithering

3 pounds of gluten-free complaining

2 broken promises

4 ounces of milk, spilled

2 ounces crying, over spilled milk

A sprinkle of carpet cleaner, useless

A pound of blame

A dash of accusation

A hint of reproach


2 pounds of reduced-sodium arguments (You can use instant — say, over who spilled the milk — but long-simmering arguments are always more flavorful.)

3 liters of recipes that use ingredients you don’t have

2 discussions over how much a liter really is

1 pound of cure (if you forget the ounce of prevention)

3 tablespoons of minced irritation, which is convertible to half a cup of spite.

2 teaspoons of anger extract

½ teaspoon of bad timing

¼ teaspoon of exasperation

A dash of annoyance

A pinch of reality

A sprinkling of growing dissatisfaction


            Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees. Thirty minutes later, finally hit the oven start button.

Mix table setting, putting Aunt Sophie next to Uncle Charlie, and hope for the best, even though the two of them haven’t spoken since that unfortunate incident at cousin Carol’s wedding. Blend with an innocuous discussion that doesn’t touch on politics, religion, sports or the presidential election.

Tell stories for 25 minutes about the time Carol’s sister Joan foolishly left the other plastic bag in the turkey and desperately hope that this time you remembered to take the extra plastic bag out.

Test the smoke alarm by sautéing seasonings. If the smoke alarm doesn’t work, leave quickly after calling the fire department.

If it does work, combine the remaining ingredients in a large zipper top bag with cornstarch until you discover you don’t have any cornstarch. Substitute whatever you have that’s white. Beige could work, too.

After 20 minutes, put everything through the food processor. Cook until tender or until you burn yourself trying to read the oven thermometer.

Call for pizza. Maybe they’ll deliver.